Make Me Yours (3 page)

   “
No,” I mumble.

  
He moans, stroking his tongue with mine. He sucks in my bottom lip, biting on it, pulling it with his teeth. Wrenching away long enough to push my hair from laying on my chest over my shoulder, he grabs my breast with his opened palm. “Oh,” I gasp, leaning further back onto the pool table.

  
He grabs me underneath my back, and pulls me to the center of the table, stopping when he hovers over me. After assaulting my mouth, he unclasps my bra, letting my breast fall from their support. The straps aren’t all the way off when he takes my nipple in his mouth.

  
“Ah,” I moan, lifting my hips toward his.

  
The medal of his tongue ring slides over the sensitive skin.
Holy fuck.
Gripping his hair, I push his head harder onto my breast.
This is not right… but fuck does it feel good.

  
His thigh separates my legs and pushes against my center. Taylor’s calloused hands travel down my flat stomach to my zipper
. Oh, God.
My heart is hammering. I haven’t been this intimate with a guy in years. Dad’s rules were the only thing in my mind after he passed.
Don’t get to close. Never get caught. I was both.
Slipping his fingers inside my jeans, between the fabric of my underwear and my skin, finding what he needs he stroked my softly. “You’re so wet for me,” he whispers so light, I’m not sure he has even said it.

  
“Taylor,” I moaned into his mouth, legs shaking with want, with need.

  
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Please, let me take care of you,” he whispers into my ear, fingers touching me slightly. His tongue darts out to my breast, again, sending me over the edge. I wrap my legs tighter around him. My mind is racing, I just came on Taylor Jack’s fingers. I want to hide in humiliation, but it’s too late now.

  
God, you’re so fucking beautiful.
My mind is a daze, I push against his shoulder until I’m sitting upright. His eyes are dilated, breathing heavily. “You want me to stop?” he asks.

  
I nod, scooting off the table, reaching for my shirt. “Layla,” Taylor says, sliding off next to me. “It’s okay, you can still stay. If you want to stop it’s fine.”

  
Anger and embarrassment swarms my body.
This isn’t what was supposed to happen. I can’t get close.
With my lifestyle, it’s easier just to keep to myself. No extra baggage, nothing for collateral. Dad learned the hard way. He broke his number two rule:
Never Let Anyone In
. Mom’s gone because of him. Dad’s gone because of him. I won’t let the same thing happen to me.

  
I zip my jeans, and pull on my shirt. “Layla,” Taylor says, grabbing my arm. “Everything is okay, we can still hang out. Let’s go in the living room and watch TV.” His eyes are round, huge balls of gray steel.

  
I pull my arm away and look up at him. He is breathing heavily, bare chest rising and falling quickly. A trickle of sweat falls from his head down over his tattooed torso. “I have to go,” I say, jetting out of the room. I get to the front door and Taylor places his palm on it, slamming it shut.

  
“Let me take you home. You can’t walk, it’s ten fucking miles.” I’m biting my lip. I need to leave before I pounce on him. I need to leave before I slid those jeans off of his slender waist and beg him to take me. I need to leave before I suffer anymore humiliation than right now.

  
“I’ll catch the bus,” I say.

  
“Just tell me what I done wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks, grabbing my chin and making me look at him.

  
His gray eyes are so…smoldering. “No,” I yell out, slapping his hand away. I open the door and head toward the street.

Chapter Two

  
A slam of a door brings me up right in my bed. I blink twice, taking in my surroundings. My bedroom.
Whew.
A small meow comes from below. I glance down at Mittens, who is staring up at me, yellow eyes wide. “Hi, sweetie,” I say, offering my hand.

  
She rubs her head against my palm and trots off toward my cracked open bedroom door. Cindy must be home. My alarm clock beside my bed tells me Cindy had a wonderful night with…
Oh no.
I rip my feet out from my tangled sheets and stand up. Holy Hell, I almost had sex with a guy last night. Not just any guy, but Taylor, who makes my skin prickle. A guy I just meet. I rub my head and run my fingers through my tangled blonde hair.
What the hell has gotten into me?
Maybe he was drunk, maybe he forgot. Wishful thinking.

  
Biting my lip, I walk out of my bedroom toward the kitchen. I hear Cindy talking and I figure she is on the phone until I walk into the kitchen and my mouth drops open.

  
Cindy is standing over our little bistro table, handing out donuts. Brett is gobbling down his second, since I’ve been standing here. But, it’s not their pigging out that is startling me, it’s who is standing beside them, eyes dragging up and down my legs.

  
“Oh!” Cindy says, looking up. “Glad to know you made it home okay, runaway.” She smiles, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head.

  
I bite my lip and narrow my eyes. “What are you doing here?” I ask. Brett must know I’m not talking to him because he glances over at Taylor who is still staring at me.

  
“Don’t be rude, Layla. We went to get donuts,” Cindy says.

  
Taylor tilts his head to the side and crosses his arms. I just now notice that he’s wearing a sleeveless gray, tank top and running shorts. His tattoos run underneath his shirt and down his bicep. “Can I talk to you in private?”

  
Can we talk in private? I want to strangle him. Did he not get it last night?
I place my hands on my hips and narrow my gaze on him. I’m suddenly aware that I’m only wearing a long night shirt. It’s one of my dad’s old shirts.

  
“No,” I say, turning and walking back to my room. I slam the door but it catches. Taylor is standing in the doorway, hands on the doorframe, his tall body taking up most of the view.

  
“I say yes. We need to talk about last night,” he mumbles, shutting the door behind him. I hear the lock click and my heart races. “Look, Layla.” He clears his throat. “If you’re not into me that’s fine…I just need to know that I didn’t hurt you. That I didn’t do anything wrong. You wanted me, too, right?”

  
Oh, he didn’t do anything wrong. And fuck yes, I wanted him.
That’s the problem. He’d felt so good against me. So firm, so experienced. So satisfied with my needs being met.

  
I ignore his latter question. “I’m not into you,” I say, crossing my arms. His eyes momentarily widen, then he presses his lips into a hard straight line. He is pissed. Mr. King of Campus isn’t used to being let down. Well, tough shit. It’s a first time for everything.

  
For a few long, uncomfortable seconds he stares at me. Then he lifts an eyebrow and a smile lifts from the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t seem like he believes me and it makes me angry. “I’m not,” I blurt out.

  
He smiles.
A full blown, teeth shimmering, smile.
“Okay, then, Layla.” He grins. “As long as I didn’t hurt you.” He turns and walks out of my room. I stand looking at the closed door for a few minutes.

  
Bastard!

  
I sit on my bed, waiting for them to leave. When I hear the click of the front door and their muffled voices disappear, I stand up. Cindy is standing at my door before I can get half way there.

  
“What the fuck, Layla,” she says, eyes wide, hands on her hips. She has her clothes on from last night, wrinkled and her shirt ripped a little.
Wait! That’s my shirt!

  
“Is that my shirt?”

  
She presses her lips together, hard.

  
“What?”

  
She throws her hands in the air. “What is wrong with you? What exactly happened last night? Taylor says you left. But, he didn’t say why? Did you…?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

  
I shake my head. “No, we didn’t…we
almost
did, but…”

  
“But what?”

  
“I didn’t think it was a good idea, that’s what.”

  
Her brown eyes bulge out of her head. “You’re serious? You left Taylor Jacks naked and horny? What is up with you? You never date? What’s the big deal? Wait!” she yells. “Are you a…virgin?” she asks, whispering, cupping a hand over her mouth. She acts like it’s a bad word.

  
“Of course I’m not,” I say. “I’ve slept with guys, just not since I graduated.”

  
“Three years? What are you like a lesbian?”

  
I stare blankly at her. “No, I’m not. It’s just,” I scratch my head. “It’s just not a good idea for me. I don’t need the baggage.”

  
She shakes her head. “You sound like a guy. You’re delusional. He is fucking smoking, or did the hustling last night impair your vision?”

  
Sighing, I grab my work shirt and push past her. I swing the bathroom door open and start to strip. “You’ve got the greatest legs, and the nicest ass. What’s up with you? Why don’t you just tell me what the real reason is that you want get close to anyone?”

  
I pull off my bra and slip into the shower. “I told you,” I say, shutting the shower curtain. “Now, it’s done. So, please just drop it. I don’t have to see him anymore.”

  
She snorts. “Where have you been this semester? He is in our Literature of the South class, Layla.”

  
The shampoo bottle slips from my fingers, hitting the floor with a
thud
. “No fucking way!”

  
I can even tell she is smiling through the lime green shower curtain. “And, besides, they’re coming over tonight to study for our test tomorrow. Have a good day at work,” she says, while I yell at her to come back.

  
Work sucks. I
stand behind a counter with this stupid visor on and serve overly tired college students coffee. “You look tired,” Eric says, bringing me back from my pity party.

  
I glance over at him. He is staring over at me, head in his hands. His big round blue eyes are wide with humor. “Get laid?” he asks, a smile rising on his lips.

  
“Funny, ass,” I say, sitting up straight.

  
He laughs, and brushes his shoulder against mine. Eric is the hottest gay guy, beside Matt Bomer, that I’ve ever seen. His high cheek bones make me want to scream and not to mention the muscle to body fat ratio. “Oh, come on, Layla. It’s just a joke. What
did
you do last night, huh?”

  
I bite my lip and pretend to wipe off the counter. No one has been in here in over an hour, it’s as clean as it’s going to get. “I went out…played some pool…then went back to one of Cindy’s hook ups apartment. Ran out on a guy, then found him in my apartment this morning…with donuts.”

  
Eric is holding back a smile, then burst out laughing. “Jesus, Lay. Do you ever give a guy a chance? Maybe, you’re not playing for the right team.”

  
Jesus, does everyone think I’m a lesbian?
“I’m not a lesbian.”

  
“Lesbi-honest,” he whispers.

  
I laugh. Eric and I have watched
Pitch Perfect,
way too many times. He is actually another person I didn’t mean to get too close to. It’s not part of my plans, to get close to anyone. The part-time job at the coffee shop doesn’t pay much, it’s more of a time waster. It doesn’t give me too much time to think. I like that. My main money comes from my hustling, and I’m good at it. Eric just wouldn’t leave me alone. He just talked, talked, laughed and I couldn’t not be friends with him.

  
“Ha ha,” I say. “I’m just not into dating right now.”

   
Eric raises a perfectly plucked black eyebrow. “No girl is
not
into dating. Just like a guy isn’t
not
into sex.”